This Pain Shall Never End
by SilencedxIntuition
Summary: I can no longer hide what I truly feel. I am emotionally breaking down and no one will realize it until it is too late. Come, bless this forsakened nation and think of him long enough to make a memory. Alternate fanfiction to National Brawl, in Francis' point of view.


~This Pain Shall Never End~

Chapter One:

Purpose

"Is there…a purpose to love?"

I often ask myself this,

For how often betrayed I am.

I am alone.

Forever.

Another day has begun. The same mornings, afternoons and evenings. I get up from my bed the same way, everyday, I lie in that same bed, dressed with the richest and most fine blankets of blue, white and gold one has ever seen, everyday. I cannot enjoy the cloud-like softness to it or the ability it has of making me fall to sleep within seconds- I have no one to share it with. Often I lie in this bed thinking of what it would be like to hold someone in it, or that very person holding me. I think about giving pleasure of the highest kind to that person, and what it would be like for that person to give me that same pleasure of the highest kind. Thinking of all these unattainable things make me more melancholy than before. I have accepted that these things which one would call 'love' will never be reciprocated unto me.

I get up from my bed towards the bathroom. When I reach there, I notice a variety of things that is to be expected from one who has just come out from bed. My curly, golden-yellow hair is matted. My light blue eyes have turned an ocean blue, much, much darker then they have originally appeared. Lastly, I feel as if I am going to faint yet again. Again I say, because the same has happened yesterday just as I walked into my home. I still do not know the reason, but I have decided to blame it on the one thing I love the most, which is wine. I am overthinking this, like I always do.

I turn on the sink to wash my face. I comb and brush my matted hair, bringing it back to it's originality. I put eyedrops into my eyes to clear the redness and to get my sky-blue eyes back. It looks as if I was crying. I do not want to cry, I want to be filled with joy, but that is so hard these days. What have I done to deserve such pain and hatred. Why am I loved only when I'm sad? Why am I only hated when I am happy? Why does no one think of me long enough to make a memory? I have so many questions, but never enough answers. I wonder to myself if it is because of my flirting. Does one think I'm some kind of pervert? Does one perceive me to be one who defiles? I call someone beautiful or handsome because I wish to compliment them, not because I want to have sex with them. I love all, and if one cannot accept that then that is their loss because I change for no one. Standing in front of the mirror, I realize today is the first day of meeting week. I just want to go back and plop down on my bed of loneliness and sleep for days on end, trying to find some blissful euphoric escape to this reality.

Leaving the bathroom, I go to my room to get dressed, doing so slowly. I do not need to rush myself for anyone or anything. When done, I go to the bathroom mirror again and look at myself. I put on my false smile and my false mask. The mask of "I'm completely fine! Nothing is wrong! I'm always joyful !" and the smile of "I only wish you be not so hostile to me!" and leave the safe haven, the sanctuary I call my home.

I arrive to the meeting hall ten minutes early. I can already see that some of the other nations that are expected to come early are here, such as Germany, Italy (which I can tell that Germany probably dragged him here), Japan, England (who I absolutely do **not **want to deal with), and Netherlands. Little Italie is the first to spot my presence. " Big Brother France is here!" he shouts with cheer as he runs to hug me. He is the only one that calls me his big brother. Smiling at him, I ask how he is. He tells me he is fine and still hugging me, he lets out a joyful 've~.' Germany is the next to spot me but I guess that is only because of Italy. "Hello France," he pulls Italy from my arms, probably thinking he is annoying me. "You're unusually early." I often come late –on purpose- so I could miss thirty minutes of this hell, but what was the difference now? Might as well endure it, even though nothing ever gets done and everyone ends up arguing like it's the third world war or something. I do not want to get started on how many arguments I've had with the _Eyebrowed One_ over absolutely nothing. "For once." I agreed. As I finished that sentence, however, the meeting hall doors burst wide open and I could only guess it would be America and it was. "Sup dudes! The hero is in the house!" _Oh mon dieu_ I sighed. Even little Italie let out a dissatisfied 've~' and Germany facepalmed. Taking my index and middle finger, I held them to my right temple on the side of my head. Maybe I should have come late after all. A clueless –very clueless- America crossed his arms and shouted "What?!"

We all enter the meeting room and Germany takes his place on the podium. He tells the nations that are closest to him to pass the meeting agenda papers down the row. With that being Italie and Japan, they heed his order. I can't help but notice that one seat is vacant but I can guess that would be Prussia. He knows the meeting is taking place in Germany and he also knows that said Germany hates lateness. He'd better have a good excuse. _Allemange _now begins. "Welcome one and all to yet another G8 meeting," he begins. "I trust everyone here has gotten their rest and their necessary documents. We have a plethora of ideas and concepts to discuss for the next four or so hours. With that being said, let us begin."

"America...It's not that I hate you, it's just I don't think a superhero is going to help stop global warming!" I can tell that Germanhy has an impending headache coming on. America sighs loudly, as if he's in the right here even though he's clearly not. "But Germanyyy~ it's genious I tell you!" I look away from that madness, to see England repeatedly banging his head on the table. He couldn't be going through any worse than what Germany and the rest of us was going through. A loud bang on the door interrupts the madness going on here. Thank you so much, Prussia. "Mr. Beilschmidt, shall I open the door?" One of the guards at the door asks him. "Yes, please." He politely responds. As I have perceived, Prussia hastely enters the meeting room, suitcase in hand and looking as if he were running a mile. "Bruder, I'm sorry I-" Germany cuts him off. "It is fine, now please take your seat." Luckly the vacant seat was next to mine and Prussia happily sits next to me, smiling. Germany comes to him and hands him the last meeting agenda paper. "America's spewing nonsense again and...is that England? He's gone mad." I hear him whisper as I turn towards England again to see him questioning his sanity. "_Allemange, _will you _please _set order in this room?" I ask. He nods yes, and runs back to the podium. "Will everyone please shut up?! We've come here to see how we can improve our countries, not act like a bunch of uncivilized lunatics!" Everyone heeds Germany...for the time being. Then again, I see England look up towards Prussia and snarl.s I feel so sorry for Germany. And myself, for being here. "Now on to the economy," Germany begins "We will-"

"What the hell are you doing here?" He shouts at Prussia. Germany sighs. "What? Problem Mr. Catepillar Eyebrows?" Prussia calls him by his common nickname for him. I scowl towards England. "He has every right to be here!" England scowls back towards me. "He's not even a nation anymore! He has no damn right to be here!" Prussia rises from his seat. "Would you kindly like to say that to my face?" Germany attempts to calm him down as always. "_Bruder_, don't rise to that. It's not worth it."

"It is worth it when he desacretes the name of my nation!"

"What nation?", England asks him "Prussia or East Germany?"

"You son of a bitch! You'll no' get away with that!" I hold Prussia down, preventing him from tearing England to shreads.

"_Angleterre,_" I begin "Must you be so cruel?" I already know the answer.

"You stay out of this, you damned pervert!"

"I will_ not _stay out of it! You have some fucking nerve to disrespect my bad friend like that! How dare you! If it weren't for the rules, I'd ban you from ever coming to another meeting! You disrespectful little shit!" I was a man that was never livid, but England disrespecting my best friend was too much. The guards at the door have come in between us at this point to prevent World War III from breaking out.

"Tough words from one of the most pathetic and ultimately weak nation ever to walk the Earth! You're even weaker than _Italy, _and that is saying something!" Every single nation present in that room gasped at England's words, even myself. I did not care for what England said about me, but Italie?

Why bring petit Italie into this?

Before I had the chance to justify both of our names, I see Italie jump from his seat in what seemed like a flash, running past the guards. He swiftly manages to punch England in the jaw. He falls to the ground and my eyes widen as Italie repeatedly kicks him in the stomach. I see tears start to form from his eyes.

"I'm not weak, I'm not weak!" He cries. "Wanting to not fight is not being weak! I don't like war! Everyone knows that! How is this for weak! Do you like to see this side of me!?" This time he kicks so hard that England coughs up blood. Italie spits in his face this time.

"Please...you're still nothing!"

"I'm nothing...?" Italy begins "Your insults have gradually taken a turn for the worse now. These are the insults of the once great empire England? Don't make me laugh! My country is the country of the mafia! Never forget that! I know all of the most beautiful and most painful tactics to get you to shut up!"

I walk towards Italie slowly, pulling him away from the now humiliated England. I walk him back to his seat and Prussia goes back to his. "Italie, I don't want you talking like that again. It's over now." I see Germany going up to the guards, probably telling them to take England out of the room and they do. He steps up to the podium again. "Listen to me, all of you, _**now**_." He motions me and Italie towards the podium and we both go.

"Since that event is over, I want to address something to all of you, save for Italy and France. Nether he nor Italy is weak. I want ALL of you to get that out of your heads right now. For Italy, one of the nicest nations to suddenly lash out like that is unacceptable and for France, also one of the kindest nations to turn livid like that is unacceptable. There shouldn't be any talk of no mafia or gang or anything like that to get it into your thick heads that France and Italy are not weak. Tell me now, if they were weak, do you think that they would be here where they are now? I for one do not think so."

He motions us back to our seats.

"Now we move on to the economy." Germany says with no interruption.

"And with that, this meeting is over. Please be on time tomorrow and have your necessary documents." Germany gathered all of his papers, carefully organizing them and left with Japan. I did the same, but was interrupted when a hand touched my shoulder. It was Spain who clearly wanted something from me. "Hello mon ami~" He smiles, a sad smile, one I would not expect from the cheerful nation. "You've not been acting like yourself lately." What he doesn;t know is that I am acting like my true self. Reality has hit me. I can no longer keep this charade up on the inside. I am breaking apart, can no one see that?

"I falsely smile. "I am fine." He nods, but I can tell he doesn't buy my fabrication at all. I am not explaining anything to anyone. "Prussia wants to know id you want to come to the pub with me and him~ like old times, you know?" I just wanted to go home and be alone, as always. I decide to say no and attempt to be on my way. "I do not want to." Spain let out a saddened sign and I could guess that it would be the end of that but it was not. "Please," he begins to pleadd. "We've not been together, the three of us, for a long time." I actually contemplate this time on whether or not I should go or just say no again and leave. I suppose it would be fine to hang out with my bad friends like we used to. Maybe, just maybe, I would be able to get rid of this cloud of loneliness that surrounds me. I accept the invitation. "I'll go." Spain smiles, the smile I remember and calls Prussia to us. "He said he'd come!" Prussia's mouth widens. "What? Really?" To answer that, I put my art around his neck and smirk and wink at him. As fast as I did that, Spain put his arm around my neck and we left the meeting room like true bad friends again, or at least we did until we saw Italie peeking throught the meeting doors. "Hmm? What is it little Italie?" He shyly asks us if he can come with us. Italie drank? The three of us didn't think of it much as we agreed, leaving now with a cute Italian companion.

"And-hic- who does that -hic- eyebrowed -hic- bastard think he is?" Prussia, beer in hand, was currently (what one would call 'bitching') at the one-who-shall-not-be-named for what happened in the meeting room earlier. "Yes, yes," I agree " a devil, isn't he?" Italie takes a sip of the sangria he and Spain were sharing together and I took a sip of the wine I had. I was actually smiling now, appearently because of the fact that at least my two bad friends and little Italie treat me as someone important to them. "Today was hectic as hell." Spain reminiscences. "That it was, but let's try to get it out of our heads, no?" I ask. Just then I hear Prussia hiss to himself. "What is it?" He scowls this time. We all look towards where he was looking, in which it was the door of the pub, to see England and America walking in. "Well fuck." Spain mutters. Italie sighs. They come to the area we are at and sit and one of the booth seats...right next to us.

"Are they really that dumb that they didn't see us?" Spain whispers.

"I suppose so." I whisper back.

"Let's see if they say anything about us while we're supposedly 'not here'." Italie states.

We all listen in.

"That little fucker!" England exclaimes while smashing his glass on the table. "I cannot believe I got bested by Italy. Are you kidding me? I got bested by _Italy!" _America lightly taps his shoulder. "We'll get them back, don't worry."

America has no common sense.

"They deserve everything they get! No one makes a fool of me, especially not France!"

"So, how do you plan on getting back at the rodents?" America asks.

Okay, America really doesn't have common sense.

We see England jump from his seat and we bend our heads as to not be seen.

"Italy won't be saying anything, not after I'm done with him." In the corner of my eye, I see England reach into his jacket to reveal a gun. America smirks and England laughs.

I gasp.

"He has a gun!" I whisper "He's going for Italy!"

"What the hell?" Prussia carefully looks in their direction to see. "Oh shit!"

"If I could save Romano from Turkey I can save Italy from this. Not on my watch."

"I'll gut him alive if he dares touch my little Italie." I scowl.

"I think that it's really nice that you guys are sticking up for me, but I can handle this on my own. I think it's really cute."

We all turn to Italy.

He too opens his jacket to reveal a gun.

"My brother makes me carry it, actually. 'To protect myself.'"

How the hell did we not see that?

"Will you guys help me?" He asks.

The three of us all nod yes.

"We'll serve them up on a wonderful dish of pasta for you. Their blood will be the sauce." I smirk.

We all get up and surround their table, this time America is the one to get up from his seat.

"Did you miss us?" I ask.

"We saw this coming. We knew that you guys would come here." America turns to us and scowls.

Guess who didn't have common sense?

"We're going to wipe the floor with you four, especially you, Italy." England points the gun to Italie.

"I would like to see you try." Italie responds as he too holds up his gun, pointing it to England.

The pub now is in hysterics as everyone runs to leave, hightaling it out of the place. We are the only ones left now.

"I am no fool, England. I don't know which Italy you think I am, but let me tell you something. I, Feliciano Vargas, will be wiping the floor with you, not the other way around."

"He's all talk, England." America smirks. I have had it with that smirk.

"As for you, America, I'm going to serve you up on a lovely coup d' etat. You're going to be wishing that you never messed with Francis Bonnefoy." I growl at him, about ready to tear him to shreads.

"So, England, " Italy begins "Are you going to make the first move, or shall I?"


End file.
